The Proposal

There had to be more to life than funding other people’s dreams. Rachel Zahara fixed her hair in the foyer mirror, spritzing Baccarat Rouge on her neck and wrists, careful not to wake Brian. She walked down to the Hudson Market with a spring in her step. Once her deal finally closed, Rachel would escape the cold New York winter and get away to Riviera Maya. And Brian knew that she was expecting a proposal when they got there.

When she met Brian seven years ago, they both had great jobs and seemed so far ahead of the game. She’d dreamed of starting a family and thought they would have by now. But she’d been busy, busy, busy. Trying to arrange all the puzzle pieces of her life just right. Matching all the jagged edges to reveal the complete picture. So why was the picture still fuzzy?

Today was the day she was set to close the private equity deal for GoHard, the fitness-based social media platform she’d been working on for two years. She texted Brian from the street, “I love you, babe,” she wrote, “Call me when you wake up.”

Brian had been working late on the newscast as a News Producer at ABC Nightly News for the better part of a year, putting them on opposite schedules. They now lived, grinding away, in the cycles of relentless calendar invites and unending departmental meetings. Sometimes Sarah thought she was married to her supervisor and cheating with her fiancé. Outwardly they seemed like the perfect couple, but their lives were owned by a thousand commitments. How can you bind yourself to someone else if you aren’t free yourself?

A Green Machine smoothie and some avocado toast should do the trick, she thought. Entering the market, she caught the reflection of her strawberry-blonde hair and green eyes in the glass door. Simply stunning.

* * *

Leah Deubel rolled out of bed in her Hell’s Kitchen apartment and immediately took the circular staircase up to her rooftop deck, shaking her hair loose. She sat at her table and smoked a joint as she stared out over midtown. She stood and looked back over the Hudson River. She was in the mood for a cappuccino. She needed something rich and creamy. She needed a kick. It was time to go husband hunting.

Leah was a Disney Imagineer who was in theatrical set designer for themed entertainment, and today was the day she was pitching the designs for the Space 220 Restaurant in Epcot. It simulated boarding a space station by way of a space elevator and then looking down at Earth or out into space from the dining floor. She split her time between her day job and her YouTube Channel. ‘Watchtopia’ was the name of the channel. She posted commentary on popular series that were playing on streaming services. As she left to get her morning fix, she had her camera equipment, drone, and laptop all stashed in a luggage bag.

At thirty-two, what Leah wanted most was to find a man somewhere in the New York Metropolitan area who wanted to settle down and have kids, and was ready to do so, if such a mythical creature from antiquity still existed.

Strolling down to the Hudson Market in her full-zip cropped hoodie and joggers, she looked carefree, but she was anything but. She smiled at mothers with their children headed to daycare or school, and fathers kissing their wives goodbye before heading down into the subway. Every time she witnessed someone else’s happy ending, it was a knife in her heart.

* * *

Rachel tapped her foot as the barista worked on her green machine smoothie. Leah stepped up and placed the order for her cappuccino. The food processor buzzed. It came out almost immediately. Leah stepped back to took a sip, enjoying the bustle of the marketplace and doing a little people-watching.

When Rachel finally got her green plastic cup, resembling lawn clippings, she turned around abruptly, and stood, face-to-face right in front of Leah. The two stood there frozen in each other’s gaze. Each seeing a reflection of herself in the other. Rachel couldn’t believe that Leah had the same hair, same eyes, same forehead, same labionasal folds, same cheekbones, same ears, same nose, the same birthmark on her left cheek even. Same, same, same. Leah couldn’t believe how bitchin’ she looked in a light gray pants suit, with a frilled blazer. One of these days, she really had to fancy up her wardrobe.

“Who are you?” Sarah asked.

“Who are you?” Leah asked.

“I’m Sarah.”

“I’m Leah.”

“Why do you look just like me?” Sarah asked.

“Why do you look just like me?” Leah asked.

“I mean, no accounting for taste,” Sarah said, putting her hand on the collar of the full-zip.

“What a bitching blazer,” Leah said, touching the fabric over the shoulder pad and running her hand along the fabric down under Sarah’s elbow.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” Sarah said.

“You sure? Ever look in a mirror?” Leah asked.

“Want to get a seat?”

“I’ve got a better idea. My place is right around the corner. Do you smoke weed?”

* * *

They sat at Leah’s table on her rooftop deck and shared a joint. Sarah couldn’t stop looking at Leah. She couldn’t believe how beautiful she was, how beautiful Sarah herself must be. Leah kept looking at Sarah, how she carried herself, her expressions, the confidence that oozed from her pores, and thought how in control she was—how fierce she seemed—formidable. And Leah thought that she must also be just as intimidating.

“I’ve got to get to my office for a team meeting,” Sarah said.

“And I’ve got a presentation at 2:00 p.m.,” Leah said.

But they both just sat there staring at one another.

“It isn’t every day you run into your doppelganger,” Sarah said.

“Or maybe we are the same person,” Leah said, blowing a cloud of weed over her shoulder.

“What did you say?”

“Maybe we are the same. You know? Like copies.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“I saw this movie once where there were like these elite soldiers, right? Hot black dude is like this total badass super soldier. But he is getting too old for combat. So, the army clones him. Creates this like younger version of him. They are literally, like, the same in every way. Except for the second hot badass super soldier, the twenty-year-old one, is just like a copy. You see what I’m saying? I did a sick video on it.”

“So, what, you’re a copy of me?”

“Rude.”

“Sorry. Sorry. It is probably just like two puppies where they look so similar you can’t tell them apart. The only way you can tell the difference is their personalities.”

“Hey, when were you born?”

“July 17, 1991.”

“Fuck!”

“What?”

“Me too.”

“That’s literally impossible.”

“Hey,” Leah said, punching Sarah’s arm. “You ever read that book by Mark Twain, ‘The Prince and the Pauper’?”

“Mark who?”

“Jesus. Okay. So, there is a book where there are these two kids who are basically doppelgangers. One is a prince. The other is a pauper. Hence the title. Anyway. They trade places.”

“So, what are you getting at?” Rachel asked.

“I’m just saying that it could be fun, you know. When are you ever going to get a chance to literally walk a mile in someone else’s shoes?”

“We would be the same size,” Rachel said, giggling.

“So, you’ll do it?” Leah said, leaning forward and grinning.

“I’m game if you are,” Rachel said, “I really need a vacation from my life.”

“Ground rules,” Leah said, “No sleeping with anyone the other one knows or is dating. That’s rule number one. No screwing up at work. No taking on debt or signing any kind of legally binding contracts. No crimes. Let’s see. No drinking the other’s best wine. Don’t soil the undies. No leaving dishes or laundry out. I guess that pretty much does it.”

“So, tell me about your life…” Sarah said.

* * *

Leah walked up to the concierge at the desk of the high rise and showed the man, whose nametag read ‘Walter’ her key, and said, “I’ll be going up to 5234.”

Walter smiled and said, “Ms. Zahara, you know you don’t have to stop at the desk before going up. What seems to be the matter? Is there something I can help you with?”

“Nothing Walter, just having a blonde moment.”

As Leah figured out the lock and walked in, there was a thin, gorgeous full-haired man standing in front of her in a towel.

“I wasn’t expecting you back home,” Brian said, “But since you are here—”

Think Leah. Think. Shit, shit, shit! First rule. Think of something.

“—No baby, I can’t stay, just forgot my keys.”

“Oh, let me help you find them—”

“—No, no. Don’t bother. I’ll find them myself and be right back on my way.”

Brian leaned over and kissed her forehead, grabbing a handful of her ass and squeezing. Leah’s eyes widened and her eyebrows fluttered. Oh, shit! Feels kind of nice.

“Babe, did you wear this to work today?” Brian asked.

“Trying something new, you know. Biz-caz. It’s all the rage.”

“Love,” he said, with a ‘OK’ hand signal and a wink.

Leah was tempted, oh so tempted, to jump Brian and take him for a ride. But she couldn’t do that to Sarah. She said her goodbyes and left to get down to work and hopefully to cool down in the cold November air. But her cheeks still felt like they were on fire even as she walked at a frightening pace.

As Leah headed to Sarah’s midtown office on foot, she smiled and laughed. Having an affair with a friend’s lover was always one of her most persistent fantasies, but one she could never act out. And now she had a doting hubby foaming at the mouth for her affection, without even having to engage in a taboo. It was so sweet. Why hadn’t Sarah locked bae down?

* * *

Sarah set up the tripod and the Blue Yeti microphone and flipped the camera on. After watching a few of these YouTube videos, she was pretty sure she could do an episode about Suits, focused on Donna. After all, Donna was her bitch.

“Sooooo, ladies and gentle dudes, we are here today to talk about a bitch after my own heart, Donna Paulsen. Loyal. Lustful. Luxurious. What can we learn from my main bitch? Well. First and foremost, Donna dresses to impress. But is still true to her own style. Just like she knows her own style, she knows what she wants. That’s number two, she always goes for it. All except for the thing that she wants the most—the thing that is right in front of her face. And isn’t that like all of us, really? We live in compromise, bitter at what might have been, while we hold on for dear life to that which is making us sick? Perhaps we are smarter than we let on. Perhaps we are just afraid to change. Woooah. That was a little too deep. Sorry guys. What I meant to say, is will she or won’t she? Right? That’s what we all want to know.”

Sarah switched off the camera, proud of herself for diving right in. Then she uploaded and rendered the file and started chopping up the video in Final Cut Pro. It came back to her like a kid riding a bike. In her college days, she worked for the campus news station as an anchor and then edited her news reports.

I could get used to this Sarah thought, and she logged in to the Microsoft Teams meeting and began going through the storyboards and pictorials of the new restaurant layout and looked into the eyes of a group of strangers and said, “Does anyone have any questions?”

* * *

“Fuck, Sarah,” Jeff Gearhardt said to Leah, who was using Sarah’s cell phone.

“Sorry, sorry. Just getting into the office now.”

“The underwriters are all set to take this company public, but we need to get approval for all of the press releases before launch. If the senior secured loan comes in, we may be signing the closing papers this afternoon.”

“I’ll call Debbie, get that signed off on.”

“Do it now. I need this closed today.”

“Got it,” Leah said. Holy shit! She was sweating. The thrill of this rapid-fire, high-pressure stuff was exhilarating. Now, who the fuck was Debbie?

After dozens of calls and sorting through more paperwork than she had ever seen in her life, Leah finally left the office around 6:30 p.m. It was already pitch black outside, and the streets were filled with ovoid-shaped golden leaves from Beech and Hornbeam trees. They looked like the bricks of the Yellow Brick Road, coating over the city sidewalks.

* * *

Sarah was sitting with Shannan at Mercury Bar. Shannan was telling stories about adventures Leah and she had when they were younger, but which Sarah knew nothing about.

“My boyfriend straight ghosted me,” Shannan said.

“He what?”

“He just stopped taking my calls.”

“Oh no. How savage.”

“It’s like the worst possible feeling. It’s like I never even existed. You know? Like what we had meant nothing—like it never happened.”

“Wow. Just wow. So, did he give you some kind of reason?”

“One day, he just texted that it wasn’t going to work out and that he didn’t know where we stood. Then crickets. Nothing. Nada.”

“He is probably going through some of his own shit. Men are like dogs. Once you give them a treat, if they are healthy enough, they always come back looking for another treat. If he isn’t barking and wagging his tail, he must be sick.”

“I guess. Anyway. I have to get to work. See you soon. Mwah.”

And just like that, Sarah was sitting at the barstool by herself. She was trying to think of how to occupy herself for the evening but didn’t have the first clue what to do. She fussed with her hair, looked around the room, and then sallied over to the bar and ordered up another cosmopolitan.

The bartender came over and smiled at her. She overheard one of the other bartenders talking to him. She called him Zeke.

“Hey, you,” he said, delivering her drink in a tall stemmed wide-rimmed martini glass.

“Had me a day,” Sarah said.

“Something I can help with?” Zeke asked.

“Doubt it. Just rethinking my life,” Sarah said.

“Leah. I know you.”

“You do, do you?”

“Well, we did get to know each other quite well after you stopped in a few weeks back.”

Oh, shit. Sarah. Was that a come-on?

“You mean in the biblical sense?” Leah said.

“I mean, like, getting to know each other, over and over again.”

Shit. Fuck. This was happening. Okay. He is kind of a dish. Seven years—no proposal—what was she feeling guilty for?

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Sarah said.

“You want to get out of here. I’m getting off in ten minutes.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

So much for rule number one, Leah thought, as she cuddled up to Brian in their King-sized bed.

“Do you really have to go?” she moaned.

“Afraid so. It’s called work,” Brian said.

“Sucks,” Leah said.

“Sure does, babe. Living in this city isn’t cheap.”

Talk about a guy that isn’t available. Leah chewed on her finger as she heard the door slam. What the fuck was she actually doing, she thought.

Leah quickly dressed and freshened up, fitting perfectly into one of Sarah’s tight-fitting cocktail dresses. And as she sat at Sarah’s vanity, she saw a little box Brian had left on the dresser when he put his coat on. As she opened the box, she held it up to the natural lighting, and the diamond gleamed in her eyes like a second sun.

She had to meet Sarah at Mercury Bar. Only, when she got there, someone came up and said, “Weird, weren’t you just sitting at the bar in sweat clothes?”

Fuck. Zeke, Leah thought. That twisted fuck. She had to get back to her place. Sarah was in for a big surprise, and not a good one.

As Leah grabbed a spare key and opened the door she had been banging on for two minutes with no answer. She heard muffled cries coming from her bedroom.

“Out creepo,” Leah yelled, pointing a small, almost cute, hand pistol at the big man who had Sarah tied up, mouth muffled with a cloth.

Zeke turned and looked even more dumbfounded than he was at why Sarah was struggling so much.

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah, sicko. You got the wrong girl.”

Zeke took a few steps forward and Leah squeezed off a warning shot, lodging a bullet in the molding and scaring Zeke, who dropped down with arms over his head. Then gave Zeke a healthy spray of Sarah’s mace to Zeke’s face, led him by the arm out into the hall, pushed him out, and closed the door.

“So, I see you met Zeke,” Leah said as she undid the ropes on Sarah’s wrists and pulled the gag out of her mouth.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Zeke the freak. That’s what they call him. You don’t want to get with that guy unless you have some serious safety measures in place.”

“Fuck.”

“Welcome to Hell’s Kitchen,” Leah said.

“Rule number one,” Sarah said.

“Rule number one.”

“So, what do you think?”

“About what?” Leah asked, pulling out the ring.

Sarah put her hand over Leah’s closing the box tight. And looked her in the eyes, longingly.

“Want to keep this going for the rest of the week?”